right in the left ventricle. The sweet spot.
Right where he tattooed his fingerprints,
unspooling those swirls and winding them
down your arteries and nerve endings
until they were clouded in cotton candy
films of blood.
Feel the hole in your heart,
smaller than a needle tip begin to grow,
widening very slowly with every
shared word and photo, every fantasy
and dreamscape you share late at night,
picturing him thinking of you
with just as much hunger.
Feel the blood leave your heart,
cascading and dripping over your bones,
dyeing them like wine on carpet.
Dark red like his lips and the tongue
that lives inside his mouth-
aching for a vacation inside
of your mouth.
With no blood in your heart,
all of it pooling in your stomach and
the quivering area right below your
abdomen, try to breathe normally.
Wait for the blood to flow to your
extremities and to taste it in your mouth
instead of tasting him.